Unlit
by Sombereyes
Summary: She won't let him go, but she won't cling onto him either. It's the worst kind of addiction, still, in the depth of night she goes to him...even if she knows the truth.


A/N: I was unsure, at first, on just how to take the series, given the anime for what it was, ending in such an open ended delirium...which, for a lack of better things to react to, bothered me. It's one of the few series that sort of ticked me off royally, the ending being what it was..though, in truth, I generally take pride in the open endings that most anime bring to the table.

This one, well, it just didn't sit well with me.

The void it gives while indeed fitting, leaves a craving in the pit of one's stomach. So, that said, with an unlit cigarette in my mouth (I've misplaced my lighter) I think to myself how many times a person may glance at such an object...thriving, wishing, praying, (or lack-there-of) on the need set fire to the tip of something that should be otherwise avoided. The very notion an interesting one at best, considering the fact, that such an item is counter intuitive to any possible well being...and yet, so many people still cling onto the item, for whatever reason...addiction truly only one of many.

So, that's the muse for this very angst ridden one shot.

I don't own Nana.

* * *

**Unlit**

There's nothing like flying high.

Your eyes slipping closed as you grip onto the tarnished metal of your headrest, sighing deeply at the intoxication of another night with the person who understands you. Heaven should forbid the suppressed moan that escapes from your lips, as heated sighs fill the room. Gritted teeth are not enough to quell the the voice that you so wish to keep concealed, but neither is his shoulder. You have to give into it, there's no way around your own, hidden desires. He calls them to the 's no use to hide it, not from him.

Still, you make the futile effort. Biting down on every word you want to say, bearing your fangs, and for what? So that you don't sound weak? So that you can pretend you don't crave his touch? So that you can ignore the very fact that the embrace you find yourself in, is totally, and completely at his whims?

Yet, it was you who wanted it...you who allowed it...you who craved a man such as him.

Jet black hair, and his thin frame were not enough. No, it wasn't just his looks, or the way his eyes burned into you, glinting dangerously from the start of the concert, to the very last note at the end of the encore. If it was, you wouldn't be here right now, where you find yourself wishing to be touched by him. Loathing the very fact that you know, you understand, it will only be a fleeting moment in time.

After all, he's a superstar, and your romance with him has long ago been squashed. You denied him, after all. So why hold him now? Why let him take you to his bed? Why let him kiss you, and run his hands over you so God damned expertly, that you don't care about weather or not you wake up the next morning...even if that means you'd be alone?

Because in the end...you will wake up...you can't avoid that.

So, you damn better judgment to hell, and you spread your legs and he accepts you, pulling you closer as he stops teasing you. Beseechingly, you buck into him, wanting to feel the arousal you strike into him like a madness. The desires so full of unexplained actions, and never uttered pleasantries...not even when he kisses you, swallowing everything you dare not say, so that he won't hear it. Drinking from you deeply, as he plunders your aching core, with his own conscious numbing erection...feeling your embrace from deep within you. Trying to bat away the lies you've built won't do any good. So, instead, you both drown now, while you still can. In the depth of night, you dive deeper and deeper into this pit, because you know the truth.

You'll open your eyes, and you'll be alone.

You won't mind, because the sadness won't seep in until much later...only after you've had time to reflect...and you know that, so like a guilty pleasure, you let him do with you as he sees fit, knowing that you'll ride the waves until your both spent...disheveled, and dropped very unceremoniously back to earth. With booze on your breath, cigarette butts all over the floor, and a few marks to dictate the sordid details your mind would have been more than happy to forget about,

you'll get up...you'll start a new day, and you'll promise yourself that it won't happen again.

The truth is, you know you'll come back. You always do. He's warm and soft. Yet, hard and as cold as steel. He's a wild wolf who can do as he damn well pleases...but he has you as an owner. You keep him under lock and key...the chain on his neck, it screams of it...and you put it there. You locked him away, so that no one else could have him.

Yet, why do that, if you've truly let him go? Why hold on so tightly, when you want to rise above him?

There is no answer, because you want to melt into him, every time every time your breath catches. Every time he touches you, a little, fleeting hope comes back...and you do sigh into the night willingly...you do moan...and like the woman he wants you to be...and that you secretly wish you could be for him. Without restraint, you tell him that you love him...you pray that he never strays, and that he comes back...and you realize, he isn't a wolf at all.

He's a broken man, a man you destroyed because you couldn't just be his woman...you couldn't bow down, and submit, you couldn't just follow him...you had your own agenda...and yet, you didn't free him from his shackles, either. Your pride is damned the next day, because you wake up, Nana, and that smoky haze is still in the room...

And for whatever reason, he's still there too...

You do the only thing you can do, perching a cigarette to your lips, but even that lacks a flame of redemption. You don't have a light, and you reach across to his side, to grab the thing so befitting of him. He's always been your drive, your inspiration, your needs, and even the pent up desire...hell, he's even been the light at the end of the tunnel on more than one occasion...but what have you been for him?

His dreams...unlit.


End file.
